


Five Times Sam Gets Married

by CoraClavia



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M, I can't help myself, five things, it's their fault for being so perfect for each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-08 18:23:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16434491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoraClavia/pseuds/CoraClavia
Summary: Exactly what it says on the tin.





	Five Times Sam Gets Married

1.

The first time Samantha Carter gets married, Daniel assures her it’s just to make the locals happy. “It’s fine, Sam. You’re not actually going to be Mrs. Dr. Jackson.”

“Don’t be fooled, Carter,” Jack murmurs. “He’s after you for your money.”

She has a sense of humor about it, though. It’s not the weirdest thing they’ve had to do. “I’ll send for my dowry, sir.”

* * *

The wedding is about six minutes long, outside someone’s farmhouse, next to a field of yellow flowers that smell like Froot Loops, with chickens running around pecking at people’s feet.

Everything goes pretty smoothly - they don’t have to do much except stand there, then promise not to kill each other, which is not an unreasonable marriage vow - until the officiant beams at them.

“And now, your first kiss as husband and wife. May it be the first of many.”

After staring at each other for a long, awkward moment, Sam and Daniel finally lean towards each other tentatively.

They perform the most uncomfortable, brief peck on the lips in the entire history of kissing, but the villagers seem delighted, cheering and throwing some kind of crumpled leaves at them. Daniel pushes his glasses up his nose, his whole face red, and Sam’s smile is strained.

As they make their way back to the Gate that afternoon, lugging a truly ugly clay pot that the elders insisted would bring the happy couple long life, happiness, and fertile livestock, Sam finally speaks up.

“Daniel, you’re great, but let’s never do that again, okay?”

* * *

2.

Her second wedding takes place on a perpetually cold, rainy, misty planet. Even the flowers are grey.

 _Why_ , exactly, she’s getting married this time is still a mystery to her. Sam’s long since stopped asking Daniel _Why is this happening?_ and _Are you sure about this?_ He assures her that this will help smooth over their connections with this group, so she shrugs. “All right. I’m game.”

Apparently, on this planet, a staff is a symbol of authority, so they want her to marry Teal’C, whom they have assumed is the leader.

The chancellor turns to Teal’C, who nods slowly. “I would be honored to wed Major Carter. She is a woman of great wisdom and integrity.”

She smiles at him fondly, because as strange a family as SG-1 is, it’s a solid one, and his words are spoken with pure sincerity.

As long as she doesn’t have to kiss him, she kind of doesn’t mind.

* * *

 

In the end, all they have to do is press their hands together and promise to maintain “a state of goodness,” under a tent to keep everyone dry from the misty, blurry drizzle, and then there’s cake for the whole crowd.

The cake is huge, and she doesn’t remember what Daniel said the flavoring is, but it’s _amazing_. It’s sweet and savory at once, perfectly moist and light and fluffy, and a glance around shows her that everyone’s enjoying it as much as she is.

“Carter,” the colonel remarks between bites, “you can keep right on getting married. This stuff is top-notch.”

* * *

3.

The third time she gets married, it starts with an accident.

SG-1 was hiking a ridge across from a prosperous village, and it was one wrong step, a crumbling ledge, and suddenly she and Colonel O’Neill went tumbling down into the river below.

After half a dozen friendly villagers came running to pull them out of the roaring waters, Daniel had quietly murmured to Jack that it would be taken as a great sign of good faith to just go along with their hospitality. Refusing would be highly offensive.

So: wedding number three.

After their fall into the river, they’re soaked to the skin. The colonel disappears with a group of men, while a crowd of women drag Sam into a bath house, where they unceremoniously scrub her down with hot water and jasmine-scented soap before wrapping her in something soft and filmy, the fabric as blue as cornflowers.

What is it with other cultures putting her in blue, anyway?

* * *

But then her impromptu handmaidens walk her out to the riverbank, and the moment she sees him, her heart leaps into her throat.

His eyes are dark, keen, blazing as he watches her, and even as she knows they’re doing this to be polite to a group of villagers who were nice enough to help them, Jack O’Neill is looking at her _like she’s actually his bride_ , and her face goes hot.

* * *

The wedding goes along quickly. The priest gives a lovely, poetic speech about water being the source of life, love, flowers, and something else, and this time, the two of them don’t even have to talk.

She feels a little exposed; the women who dressed her clearly thought she needed to be dressed to please her new husband, and from the looks the colonel’s been stealing, well. He’s pleased. Maybe even thinking about the wedding night that is absolutely not going to happen.

But all in all, she decides, this wedding isn’t so bad. It’s even a sunny day.

As long as they don’t have to -

“Now,” the priest intones solemnly, “let all the company witness your first kiss, the spring that births the river of your new life together.”

 _Damn it_.

The colonel turns to face her, and for a moment, she’s not sure what’s happening. But then he brings one hand to her face, thumb brushing lightly over her cheekbone, and there’s a question in his eyes. _Are we okay here?_

She nods, just barely, and as he leans in, his breath warming her lips, her eyes flutter shut.

He kisses the corner of her mouth, just barely catching the edge of her lips. It’s brief, hot, and it leaves her aching for more.

When the colonel pulls back, she opens her eyes to find him gazing at her, eyes wide, and she knows he wanted the exact same thing she did.

* * *

When she goes to put her pack together the next morning, she unzips the outside pouch to find little cluster of white flowers, the tiny miniature lilies that grow around the village.

She doesn’t say a word, but when they set out for the Gate, she can see the colonel’s gaze drop to the shoulder strap of her pack, where she’s tucked the blossoms through one of the pack loops.

He gives her just a hint of a smile before turning back to the others. “All right, campers. Let’s go.”

* * *

4.

Four months later, a city council insists that Sam marry a rock.

It has something to do with her blonde hair, the ancient stone resembling the moon, and some prophecy that foretells good fortune and bounteous crops.

When they present her with her betrothed, a lumpy grey rock the size of a baseball, Jack snorts so loudly Daniel elbows him, and Sam turns to shoot them both a death glare.

* * *

Of course, the colonel’s not laughing quite so loudly when he discovers that Carter’s being given a palatial suite in the town hall for the night, while the men of SG-1 are offered wooden planks in a local farmer’s hayloft.

They don’t leave a team member alone on an unfamiliar planet. It’s a firm rule, and Sam’s about to ask if she can stay with the rest of them, but Jack speaks up first.

“With your permission, I consider it my duty to stay with Major Carter. I’d be happy to sleep outside her door.”

Councilor Tenuell nods, entirely unfazed. “It is an honor to protect the sun-bride. You must take great pride in serving a woman so beautiful.”

Jack looks at her for a long moment. “I do.”

* * *

Daniel and Teal’C end up in the hayloft nearby, and it’s late, the moon gleaming in the starry sky, when the door opens behind Jack.

They’ve given her the top floor - apparently, the “sun-bride” needs to be close to the sky - and he’s settled on the balcony outside her door. It’s a balmy enough night that he doesn’t mind; there’s a breeze coming from what he thinks might be the west, and the sky’s clear and glittering. The village around is quiet, firelight visible like little gold gems in the dark.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks without turning.

He hears her chuckle softly. “No, sir.”

Jack finally turns back to her, and blinks at the sight. She’s wrapped in the softest, silkiest fur robe imaginable, gleaming silvery-white under the torches and starlight. His mouth goes dry.

“This is...different.”

“They offered to wash my clothes.” She shrugs. “Then when I agreed, they thanked me.”

“Hope you’re not expecting this kind of treatment back on Earth.”

He’s joking, of course, but it’s hollow, because at this point he would gladly do her laundry and shine her shoes and make her breakfast at the crack of dawn every day, and the realization scares him a lot less than it probably should.

“I think I’ll manage, sir.”

She settles beside him, pulling her robe around herself, wrapping her arms around her knees. Her shoulder brushes his lightly. It’s quietly, casually intimate, the kind of thing he’d see every day if there was even the slightest chance they could have half the life together he wants, and for just a moment, he can imagine it’s true, that they’re the only two people in the universe, and there’s nothing at all between them.

It’s too close to something it shouldn’t be, so he finds refuge in sarcasm. “So where’s your husband-to-be?”

“Back at the temple, I think they said.” Carter leans her head back against the door. “You think he’s getting cold feet?”

“Nope.”

She smiles, half-turning to look at him. “Because rocks don’t get nervous?”

“Because it’s you.”

The answer’s too honest. It escapes him before he can stop it.

He winces, looks down to find her staring at him, wide-eyed.

 _Shit_.

“I didn’t - I don’t mean -”

She silences him with a hand on his arm, soft and gentle, and before he knows what’s happening, they’re kissing.

It should be frenzied, white-hot, but it’s so much worse.

It’s slow. Deliberate.

Tender.

She pulls back, gasping for breath. Her face is flushed, her eyes glittering. She looks as dazed as he feels, heat swirling around them, and it would be so easy to just walk her back into that room and -

“I’m - I’m sorry, sir, I don’t -”

“Carter.” It’s not right. He shakes his head. “Sam.” He can’t pretend he didn’t know what he was doing, and he can’t bring himself to pretend he was sorry. “We both know.”

It’s more honest than they can afford to be.

“If things were different -” he starts, hesitating.

“- we might never have met,” she finishes for him, her voice soft.

He smiles wryly at the sky, because his options are never meeting Samantha Carter, or knowing that he can’t have her. “Yeah.”

Jack wants to reach for her again. Bury his fingers in her hair. Pull her into his lap, tug the robe aside, and spend all night learning how to take her apart. Slowly. And then again. And then -

“Should we talk about it?” she asks.

“I don’t know.” They’ve already had to admit, semi-publicly and under threat of probable death, to the simple truth that isn’t allowed to exist.

What else is there to say?

They fall silent for a while, and he wonders if it’s all ruined, when she finally pulls her robe closer. Stands.

“I guess I should go.”

He nods slowly. Doesn’t look at her on purpose, because if he does, he’s fairly sure he won’t be able to look away. “Get some rest. Big day tomorrow.”

He feels the warm press of her hand on his shoulder. “Good night.”

“Good night, Major.”

It’s a reminder to himself, more than to her.

The door closes behind her, and Jack stretches out on his bedroll, staring up at the stars.

* * *

5.

The fifth time she gets married, it’s a quiet, misty morning in northern Minnesota. There’s no music, no speeches, no alien prophecies, nothing but a modest wedding band on her finger and Jack’s kiss and the soft morning breeze.

The fifth time she gets married, it’s for keeps.


End file.
